


Fate is Not a Game to be Played

by RiverWriter, weestarmeggie



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Destiny says so, Eventual Romance, F/M, Family Secrets, Fate is a bitch, Fawley, Granger - Freeform, Lost Heirs, Malfoy, Mystery, Princes, Princess - Freeform, Sacred Twenty-Eight, Secret Relationship, War, black - Freeform, grey hermione, manipulative hermione, unexpected best friends
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-05
Updated: 2018-05-10
Packaged: 2019-03-27 08:29:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13877064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RiverWriter/pseuds/RiverWriter, https://archiveofourown.org/users/weestarmeggie/pseuds/weestarmeggie
Summary: An unknown princess is prophesied to fall in love with an oblivious prince, both from long lost lines of magical Royalty. Together, with the help of the princess' lost brother and her trusted royal advisor, they must overcome the many obstacles fate thrusts upon them to retake their long lost throne, and fulfill the prophecy made over a century ago, saving the world from darkness in the process.





	1. Pre- Prologue

It had a been a long day out on mutually beneficial family business; both second sons, they were forever out on these tedious errands. And so, Gerald and Lycoris decided to reward themselves with a trip to their favorite gentleman’s club, Le Chat Noir. Their waitress had Gerald’s attention before she even approached their table. A blonde haired, blue-eyed beauty she held herself with grace, and he couldn’t help but think it a pity that she was relegated to this kind of work.

For Cassandra it was simply another ordinary Wednesday afternoon, waiting on regulars, flirting and laughing with them when her head began to pound (like it so frequently did these days) and she stumbled, spilling whiskey and liquor all over Lycoris.

“I’m so sorry” she mumbled, frowning and wandlessly drying the damp trouser leg. He waved her apology off, not paying her clumsiness any heed, until Gerald’s eyes grew wide and he turned to see that their waitress was gazing at them. She had gone completely still, her eyes were blank, and she began to speak in a haunting monotone. 

 

_ “Ancient veins of royal nature  _

_ Two laws; one arcane - one true _

_ A darkness threatens to thwart thy saviors _ __  
_ The bound souls of two _ __  
_ Strife and struggles, may they beware _ __  
_ The Prince that was stolen returned _ __  
_ May fortune favor those blessed heirs _ __  
_ Give faith where trust was burned _ __  
_ Mind the shadows _ __  
_ Seek the light _ __  
_ Their fate so far untold _ __  
_ Bear your cross _ __  
_ Combat the night _ _  
_ __ So that true love may unfold.”

 

When she finished speaking she blinked at them, face devoid of emotion. But, of course, she wouldn’t have remembered what she’d just said. A Seer never remembered giving a true prophecy. Lycoris’ nails dug into the leather of his chair at her words, even as Gerald had the sense to jump up and catch the girl before she collapsed, ushering her into a seat and sharing a look with his companion.

“Merlin” he whispered, “the others must be told.” 

Lycoris nodded and drained his firewhiskey, “they’re not going to like this.”

Gerald snorted, no, they were not going to like it at all, but they’d heard her and they’d understood. The fate of their world rested on the words that had just left this pretty witch’s lips.

“Thank you, Cassandra, it’s been a wonderful evening, but I’m afraid that my friend and I need to be getting home.”

They left her a substantial tip and a fervent wish that she would never give another prophecy, for her voice was sure to haunt them for the remainder of their lives.

Cassandra never saw them again. But they never forgot her, and when they heard about the famed Seer, Cassandra Trelawney, any doubts they’d harbored were erased.  

  
  



	2. Prologue

Astoria Greengrass did not like to be kept waiting. Especially when she’d had the interview she was about to take thrust upon her at a moments notice by her boss at  _ Witch Weekly. _

_ “The Malfoys?” she sneered at the file her editor had just chucked on her desk. Elisa turned to look at her, one eyebrow raised questioningly and Astoria immediately schooled her expression. “I just mean I - Why?” _

_ Elisa snorted, “Why? Why would Witch Weekly take this incredibly rare and unbelievable opportunity to interview the rediscovered Royal Families? To tell their story exclusively, pictures of the happy couple and brand new heirs included?” _

_ “Hardly Royalty” Astoria mumbled, sulking as she flipped through the folder that contained a myriad of information about her schoolmates. Elisa rolled her eyes at the girl’s attitude but said nothing. She’d have a rude awakening if she showed up to Malfoy Manor with a face like a slapped arse. _

Astoria was jolted from her sullenness by the arrival of Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy, though they weren’t alone. Each of them was smiling and babbling-  _ like commoners _ \- Astoria thought, to the infants they had safely ensconced in their arms. Scorpius Draco and Cassiopeia Violet Malfoy were twins who, while Astoria knew that one was a boy and one was a girl, still appeared identical to her and who, at three months old, already apparently had their grandparents eating out of the palm of their hands. Astoria inwardly cringed at the traditional Black family names but put on her best face and stood to greet the parents of the man she’d once harboured dreams of marrying.

“Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy” she demurred, bowing her head charmingly with her hand extended in greeting. Neither of them turned away from the child in their arms, and when Narcissa Malfoy finally did look up at her, Astoria was shocked to see the cold look in her blue eyes.

“It’s Lord and Lady Malfoy, Miss Greengrass,” she corrected crisply.

Astoria was brought up short, she’d known the Malfoys her entire life, they ran in the same social circles as her own parents and she’d certainly never been asked to use such titles before. But Astoria wasn’t a Slytherin for nothing, she quickly regained her composure and plastered a smile back on her face. “Of course Lady Malfoy, it’s wonderful to see you and it’s always a pleasure to be a guest in your home. I believe you’ve redecorated this room since I was last here?”

If she wasn’t mistaken the woman’s countenance only hardened. Her husband had finally deigned to look up and he had a funny little smile on his face. Perhaps the rumors were true and his time as a Death Eater had addled his brains.

“Miss Greengrass, I hope there hasn’t been a misunderstanding. You are here as a member of the press, a professional here to do a job, you are not a guest. But thank you, Hermione and I have been doing some redecorating.”

It was all she could do not to cringe. Hermione Granger, that uppity muggleborn chit was redecorating Malfoy Manor. Generations of purebloods were probably rolling in their graves. She was meant to be the one at Narcissa Malfoy’s side, yet here she was, being treated like the help. 

She bit her tongue and smiled at the older woman. It’s not like she was the one Astoria was there to interview anyway. And then, as if that thought had summoned them, Draco and Hermione Malfoy stumbled through the door. Astoria scowled at them. Hermione was giggling like a schoolgirl at something Draco was whispering into her ear, and whatever it was had the Gryffindor blushing. Astoria tempered her jealousy because as  _ Lady Malfoy _ had kindly reminded her, she was there as a professional.

She stepped past Narcissa and approached the pair, though she only had eyes for one of them.

“Draco” she exclaimed, throwing herself into the unsuspecting arms of her fellow Slytherin, “I‘ve missed you” she purred, pulling back and dismissing the fact that he hadn’t taken the blatant opportunity to feel her up and had simply stood still, “you really must come for tea with my parents soon. They’ve been asking after you.”

Draco glowered down at her, and Astoria finally understood what it felt like to be subjected to the Malfoy glare. 

“Miss Greengrass” Hermione interrupted, sending a small smirk to Draco that had Astoria sneering. She stepped into Draco’s arms and proffered a hand that Astoria reluctantly shook, taking the opportunity to squeeze it hard in one last attempt to show her just who the superior woman was.

Hermione only smirked at her, even as Draco took a step closer and made a quiet noise at the back of this throat that, nevertheless, had the hair standing up on the back of Astoria’s neck. She automatically took a step back from the couple. “I believe you’re here to interview us?” he said, all pleasantness again.

Astoria smiled grimly and nodded, “Will the twins be staying?” She asked, glancing across the room to where Narcissa and Lucius had settled with them both.

“Well” Hermione began, and Astoria turned back to see her smirking  _ again _ at Draco, “they are the newly born heirs to two recently rediscovered Royal Family lines. It would be incredibly irresponsible parenting if I were to let them out of my sight. Not to mention they are the reason we requested this interview.”

Astoria rolled her eyes at the girl. Living with muggles had obviously left her a few knuts short of a sickle. “Of course” she drawled, leaning down to remove her quick-notes quill and pad, “the royalty thing.”

“The royalty thing?” Hermione asked with the arch of one brow, seating herself almost indecently close to her husband on a settee across from her.

Astoria absently wondered if the witch had to maintain physical contact with Draco to keep him under whatever spell he’d obviously been placed. 

“Well yes, Mrs. Malfoy,” she said, the moniker tasting like ash in her mouth as she spoke.

“Your Majesty,” Hermione corrected immediately.

Astoria couldn’t help but scoff. “Well, that’s the point, isn’t it, you can’t possibly expect the public to believe that fairy tale?” 

“Fairy tale?” the other witch asked, “I’m sorry Miss Greengrass, did you just refer to the prophesied merging of two ancient royal lines as a fairy tale?”

Astoria sniffed but the other witch was not finished.

“I was under the impression that you were a member of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. No,” she admonished as Astoria opened her mouth to defend herself, “I will not disrespect your House in pretending not to be completely aware that it is an old and respected one. Yet you do us all,” she gestured around her generally, “the dishonor of walking into Malfoy Manor, the seat of House Malfoy for more than a millenium, and accuse us of spinning fairy tales?” 

Astoria couldn’t speak. She’d never been so thoroughly reprimanded in her life, but Hermione Malfoy was simply watching her, a smirk slowly forming on her lips as she watched the younger witch squirm uncomfortably. “I’m almost certain” she continued, “that your editor told you that you were here to interview the Royal couple. And as certain as I am of that, I know that you, like so many of the other young witches and wizards in our world, grew up hearing about the lost Royals. I’m not sure which insults me more,” she pondered, tapping a delicate finger against her lips, “your ignorance or your arrogance.”

Astoria blinked at her. This girl who-when she was in a fair enough mood- she could admit had helped restore peace and a sense of normality to their world alongside Harry Potter, was lecturing her,  _ her _ , on manners and political issues like she’d been born to do so when she was nothing but a muggleborn who’d somehow managed to marry into a good, pure-blooded, wealthy family. Astoria had been belittled into taking a  _ job, _ something no Greengrass woman had ever had to resort to in the past and the reminder stung. She was startled from her attempts to recall all the hexes and jinxes she knew that would be useful in showing the bitch her place by Draco’s voice.

“Hermione” he growled. Astoria looked up to see him leering at Hermione, his fists gripping the edge of the settee they’d perched themselves on. Astoria squirmed uncomfortably, the sexual tension between the married couple was palpable, she just didn’t understand it. It was so….so….uncouth.  _ Yes, _ she thought to herself, very unbecoming of a Malfoy anyway, and especially for someone who proclaimed to be a  _ King.   _ She flicked her eyes in the direction of the elder Malfoys, certain that they would share her opinion, but they seemed only half-aware of the conversation. Their attention was again absorbed by the creatures they were holding; Astoria couldn’t fathom the appeal. 

“Did you actually have some questions for us,” Draco asked, though he made no effort to look away from his wife, “or do we need to request a different reporter? This interview is important to us, and if you can’t be relied upon to do the job you were sent here to do then I suggest you not waste our time and tell us now.”

Astoria glared at him. It was obvious to her now that this meeting wasn’t going to turn out the way she’d anticipated, she could only hope to get something useful from the day and turn it into her editor. “Apologies,  _ your Majesty”  _ she drawled sarcastically, not taking her eyes off the man she’d once upon a time dreamed to call husband. She straightened her posture. “Of course I have questions, I know that our readers are very interested in understanding the progression of your relationship. As a fellow Hogwarts student I think it’s safe to say that the two of you openly despised each other for most of your time at school.”

She was momentarily caught off guard by the fact that neither half of the couple seemed perturbed by the observation. She had been sure that their behavior towards each other would have been a source of embarrassment for them, but she plodded onward; she was a professional after all, and as much as she hated that, she was certain her journalistic instincts would see her through this.

“Perhaps you could explain to us what first drew you to _ her Highness _ ?” She tried to keep the contempt she felt for the other witch subtle as she asked the question, open hostility had gotten her nowhere.

Draco smirked, it was an expression that had often been discussed in the Slytherin girls’ dorms, the source of endless fantasizing. He had been desirable from the day he’d entered Hogwarts and had only grown increasingly so as the years had passed; she felt herself sitting on the edge of her seat, and slipping back easily into old habits as she waited for his answer.

“My Queen is the most brilliantly cunning little witch you’ll ever meet. Looking back on it I think that I was gone from the moment she befriended the wizard my eleven year old self considered to be his greatest enemy” he sighed, bringing Hermione’s hand to his lips and gracing her knuckles with his affection; Astoria tried not to wretch. “She was absolutely fascinating to me,” he continued, “and I haven’t been able to look away from her ever since.”

Astoria snorted quietly and got comfortable in her chair. She was obviously going to be here a while if this was the tale they planned on spinning. 


	3. The Lost Princess

She always knew that she was meant for something more. The bullies didn’t bother her, in fact, she almost felt sorry for them. They simply couldn’t understand what she was.

Her parents laughed off her great-grandmama’s stories, but she’d absolutely absorbed them. She’d always looked forward to seeing her once a month when her parents drove down to Cornwall to visit. Her parents would roll their eyes when she eagerly hopped up beside her and listened to the tales about magical creatures that ranged from unicorns to mermaids, giants to veelas. About the Ministry of Magic and how useless it was when it came to dealing with the crimes of Grindelwald and his successor, Voldemort. Myths that were lost to almost everyone these days about lost magical royalty and extinct families. About Hogwarts.

_“You’ll go there one day sweetie,” she murmured lowly so that no-one else could hear, “I know you will.”_

She’d always believed her. No matter what anybody else said she knew that _she was special_. She waited anxiously for the day that somebody would come to invite her to Hogwarts and she felt a certain grim satisfaction when that day arrived.

They’d all been sitting down to breakfast when the knock at the door had come and Hermione’s father had excused himself to answer it. She hadn’t been shocked to find herself being introduced to one of her new teachers, Professor McGonagall. And when her parents had protested about such nonsense, the woman, the witch, had simply transformed into a cat, hopped onto the sofa and purred before changing back, automatically putting an end to their doubts. She didn’t let on to her parents how pleased she was though, she knew they wouldn’t appreciate it. That they couldn't, wouldn’t, understand how out of place she’d always felt.

She also knew that they wouldn’t approve of her little, _project_.

It had become so clear to her: once she entered Hogwarts, once she became a part of the world where she truly belonged, she would no longer have a place in her parents’ world. No matter that it was where she’d been raised, in the end it was a foreign country. She needed a plan.

It was almost frighteningly easy. She asked Professor McGonagall before the woman left, to help her get a subscription to the wizarding paper, the Daily Prophet and from there she bribed the birds sent to deliver it with her pocket money. They felt no allegiance to a company that treated them like mere beasts, and went out of their way for the girl who made sure they were always supplied with fresh mice.

When she wrote to a certain archive for information, her faithful feathered companions pecked the attendant- who would normally be compelled to refuse her request- until he was convinced to give her any information she desired. And she knew almost immediately which family of the Sacred Twenty-Eight she should target.

Malfoy.

It was a disgraced house. The last war had left a dark stain on it. And it could benefit from an association with a muggleborn like her. Of course, she'd have to convince the Malfoy heir. The rich, cultured, and handsome Malfoy heir, if the pictures from the Daily Prophet society pages were any indication. He would have to believe that she was someone he would be lucky to have on his arm.

She'd always known she was meant for something more.

In the days before she was due at Hogwarts her great-grandmama came to see her. She presented her with the most beautiful gold locket Hermione had ever seen, an intricate pattern etched into its front.

_“Wear this always, little love.” She told her quietly, when her parents were otherwise distracted, clasping it around her neck. They still did not approve of the ideas she’d put into their daughter’s head, even though Hermione’s invitation to Hogwarts should have confirmed her outlandish sounding tales._

_Hermione nodded, feeling like she’d just been given something very special, and on top of that a very serious responsibility._

She walked onto Platform 9 ¾ with a whole new attitude, her locket proudly on display. She would bend this new world to her will.  

 

* * *

 

Pansy had been excited to finally be heading to Hogwarts, but just a couple of hours into the journey and she was already bored. These children were just so _dull_. She had been sitting with Draco, whom she’d known her entire life, and whom she generally liked even if he was quite full of himself. Still, he was clever and had something of a mean streak which was usually very entertaining because he didn’t dare cross her and watching others squirm was always amusing. But for some inexplicable reason he’d decided to ally himself with those absolute goons, Crabbe and Goyle.

Five minutes trying not to watch them as they practically inhaled a myriad of sweets from the trolley and she’d had to escape the compartment. Unfortunately the older students weren’t interested in a girl who was so clearly a firstie, given that her robes were the plain black of an unsorted student and so she’d taken to wandering up and down the train. She nearly ran into a girl who wasn’t watching where she was going, rather she had her eyes trained to the floor.

“Watch it!” She snapped.

The other girl immediately looked up. She had enough hair for three witches and was wearing odd clothes that Pansy could only assume were muggle, but fortunately before she could say anything more insulting she caught sight of the locket dangling from her neck. She barely stopped herself from dropping into a curtsey, but she couldn’t help the gasp that escaped her. Luckily the girl, _the lost princess_ , was too preoccupied to notice.

“Oh, I’m so sorry! I’m looking for a toad, a boy named Neville’s lost one. You haven’t seen it anywhere, have you?”

Pansy just blinked at her. She was looking for a _toad_? What kind of wizard actually brought a toad to Hogwarts and why was this girl wasting her time looking for it? They were absolutely useless. If her parents had given her a toad she would have found a way to lose it before she could be seen with it. But it would probably be rude of her to say that. So instead she plastered on a smile.

“No, I’m sorry I haven’t seen any loose toads. I’m Pansy Parkinson by the way, it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“Oh, I’m Hermione Granger.”

She stuck out her hand and Pansy eyed it warily. What was she supposed to do? Was this some kind of muggle greeting? Pansy hesitantly put her hand forward, not wanting to alienate the princess before she'd even gotten a chance to know her, much less do her duty as a Parkinson and protect her.

The girl- _Hermione-_ she reminded herself, grasped it gently. It made her feel like such a boy. Did girls really greet each other with such a masculine gesture in the muggle world? But then Hermione smiled at her genuinely and bowed her head. While they had obviously been raised very differently, at least she wouldn’t have to teach the girl to be genteel, it seemed to come naturally to her despite her muggle upbringing.

“It's a pleasure to meet you. I really am sorry for running into you, I'm not usually so careless.”

“Hermione, have you seen him?” called a voice, and Pansy turned to see a pudgy blond boy approaching.

“I’m sorry, Neville, I haven’t”. She looked towards Pansy, “but this is Pansy Parkinson. I’m sorry to say she hasn’t seen him either.”

She knew he wouldn’t be impressed by her last name, but she hadn’t been prepared for the way the boy actually shrank back from her in fear. Pansy cringed at the look on Hermione’s face at his reaction, made her excuses, and quickly retreated back towards the end of the train to rejoin Draco and to regroup, already mentally writing a letter to her parents about who she’d met. There was plenty of time to make friends with the lost princess, Hermione. Prepare her for the responsibility of being magical Royalty. They were only first years. What could possibly happen?

 

* * *

  

Hermione was slightly disappointed. For some odd reason she felt like she’d connected with that Pansy girl, despite the fact that she’d quite literally run into her, but then she’d rushed off at the very sight of Neville. And she had appeared to be exactly the sort of person that Hermione wanted to befriend. She heaved a sigh of defeat, told Neville she’d keep looking and carried on, throwing open the door to the next compartment. A dark haired boy and and redhead were inside.

She sighed again, because these boys on the other hand, seemed exactly the sort she wanted to avoid. But then she noticed the scar on the raven haired boy’s forehead and struggled to contain her reaction. Why was Harry Potter, the savior of them all, walking around dressed like he’d been living on the streets? And his companion was little better. His clothes fit but he actually had dirt on his face and he was gaping at her in the most unbecoming manner. Nevertheless, she moved into the compartment.

They were not particularly good company. The redhead, Ron, was rather rude and he seemed to be confused about magic. He had actually believed that a few words in English with no discernable wand movement could change the color of his rat. And Harry, well he had no idea who he was. All in all it was disappointing, and they hadn’t seen Trevor either, so she quickly moved on.

She spent the rest of the ride in various compartments meeting as many people as she could. They never did find Trevor. When they reached Hogsmeade she followed the giant man along with the other first years and they boarded a series of small boats to complete the trip to Hogwarts. When she caught a glimpse of the castle for the first time her breath caught in her throat and she would have sworn that her heart skipped a beat. It was wonderous, she couldn’t wait to write her great-grandmama and tell her all about it. She was finally where she belonged.

She was approaching the steps that led up from the boathouse to Hogwarts great entrance when she caught a glimpse of blond hair. Not regular blond hair, but a shade she had only ever seen in pictures. Pictures of the Malfoy family that her trusty owls had brought to her. She had spent enough time studying them to know a Malfoy on sight. She didn’t know what he was saying to the clueless boy following behind him, but she tried to concentrate on her own self-appointed tasks as she climbed the steps of the castle. And then she got her first, up close glimpse of the boy she’d promised herself would be her’s. He strutted and he smirked and he looked down his nose at everyone in sight. That was no surprise. But he was beautiful, and she felt immediately drawn to him, and when he looked up and caught her eye she knew that he felt the same way. He was perfect. She had to stop herself from marching up to him and inserting herself at his side, project be damned. She tore her eyes away and swallowed.

She tried not to faint when Professor McGonagall led them into the great hall and she saw, for the first time in her life, what magic truly looked like. Even the small amount of magic she’d witnessed in Diagon Alley paled in comparison to the magic around her. Of course, she’d devoured any and all the books her parents had allowed her to purchase on their trip there. She knew that the ceiling above her was enchanted to look like the night sky, yet there was something breathtaking about seeing it in person. She hadn’t realised she’d been thinking out loud until she heard students behind her snickering. She didn’t deign to look at them though. People, wizards and muggles alike, were all the same, and she’d long ago learned that letting them get under her skin wouldn’t change anything.

The first years gathered at the foot of the steps where McGonagall stood beside a rickety old stool and an even older looking hat. She eyed it warily. That was the infamous Sorting Hat? She’d been expecting something grander, since everything she’d read had referred to it as one of the most magical items to exist in their world.

She did her best to ignore the hat as it sorted the few students before her. She tried not to worry or let it color her opinion, but she would never forget the first thing that it said to her.

_“You, Hermione Granger, would make an excellent Slytherin._ ” Hermione gripped the edge of the stool, her eyes widening in both surprise and fear, as the voice, _the hat,_ continued, _“and if you can persuade me that you do not in fact belong there...well you may just do more to convince me that you do.”_ Hermione eyed the student body in front of her, all of them watching, whispering to each other, as she continued to sit there.

_I’m a muggleborn_ she thought, _I’ll be a social pariah_ . The hat only grunted, not satisfied by her plea. _It’ll ruin my plans_ she thought desperately, the thought unbidden, even as her eyes sought out Draco Malfoy in the crowd of first years watching.

The hat actually snorted, “ _yes. I see everything to do with your pretty little project here in your head. Smart. Quite brave of you really,”_ it drawled and Hermione was sure if she could see it’s expression it would be smirking. _“You’re very manipulative. Sneaky.”_ She closed her eyes and knew her knuckles were turning white from the grip she had on the stool. “ _No?_ ” it pondered. _“Well I can see there’s no changing your mind girl. You’ll regret this,_ ” it warned. _“Gryffindors are incredibly rash and instinctive. It’ll make your plans incredibly difficult?_ ” Hermione’s head nodded slightly and the hat sighed, “ _If you’re sure?_ ”

_Please_ she thought, two fingers of her left hand loosening and crossing as she awaited it’s decision with bated breath.

“GRYFFINDOR” it shouted and Hermione released the breath she’d been holding and practically sprinted to the red and gold table that represented her house, her new home. She smiled demurely, dipping her head as the table cheered for her and looked up to see most of the first years still looking at her. The girl she’d run into earlier on the train, Pansy, was rubbing her eyes and seemingly murmuring under her breath. The boy who lived, Harry, nodded his congratulations to her. And Malfoy? Malfoy was glaring at her. Hermione lifted the cup in front of her and smirked into it. Less than a day and she’d already managed to capture his attention.

 


	4. Pansy's Worries - Hermione's Plan

Pansy had grown up enamored with the idea that it was her family’s duty to protect the lost prince or princess, whenever he or she emerged. She had played pretend that it would be a princess, that she would be at Hogwarts at the same time as Pansy herself, and that they would be great friends. Pansy always intended to complete her duty, of course, but just as the royal heir would be chosen, so was she, if she was the one to guard that heir. And that also made her special. She told herself that she had always felt a certain importance and that it was because she was the one meant to protect the heir. She hadn’t expected to run into the heir so soon, and she certainly hadn’t expected the girl to be so infuriatingly brazen. 

_ Gryffindor? Really? _ Literally anything else would have be preferable. She was a muggleborn (for all that mattered to her). Gryffindor though, made it impossible for Pansy to openly approach her and offer her friendship. And she couldn’t tell the crazy girl her real identity until she came of age either, which was another five years in the future. How was she supposed to complete her family’s task?

Her parents counseled her to keep her head down, which she did, even though it was difficult. The princess was quite the enigma. She thought Hermione might actually drive Draco round the bend which was both wonderfully amusing but also disturbing; she didn’t seem to care about anything they’d been raised to prize. She was bound and determined to be top of their class: damn finding a husband or appearing to be a suitable and docile witch. Pansy was deeply envious.

Halloween was the last straw. The ridiculous girl had somehow managed to get herself cornered by a mountain troll. Her housemates seemed to think it was a great adventure. And because she had been raised by muggles Pansy worried that Hermione wouldn’t know any better, that she would think this was how things worked in the magical world. At the very least she needed to be set straight on that front. And if Pansy wanted to be her friend, well, that was just an extra benefit of approaching her. 

Pansy had to wait almost a week before she had the chance to talk to Hermione as she’d been spending a lot more time with Potter and that Weasley kid with the terrible table manners. Luckily neither of them took their school work seriously so, with patience, she found Hermione alone in the library.  

“Hello Hermione,” she said quietly, “may I sit here?”

The other girl looked at her suspiciously but nodded and Pansy took a seat across the table from her. 

“So you’re talking to me now?” Hermione wondered.

Pansy sighed. “I liked meeting you on the train, but then with the way we were sorted...well, you might be a muggleborn but you’re not stupid. Surely you’ve noticed that Gryffindors and Slytherins aren’t really allowed to be friends around here.”

Hermione considered this and then smirked. “I guess. I mean, I wasn’t exactly skipping over to the Slytherin table to see you either,” she admitted. “But why are you here now?”

The suspicion was back and Pansy reminded herself not to underestimate this girl, Gryffindor or not, she was the lost princess, she was bound to have hidden depths. Perhaps she could let her inner Gryffindor out to play.

She shrugged. “I like Slytherin, I like our dorms, I like what our house stands for. But we’re not big on genuine friendship. It can be kind of lonely.” 

“And you thought I was the girl for the job?”

“Well, you’ve already proven to be stupidly brave. So I thought, in comparison, giving a Slytherin a shot would be nothing. Seriously, going after a mountain troll, what were you thinking?” She couldn’t help herself, she had to ask.

“That wasn’t exactly what it sounded like,” she mumbled.

“Oh, what was it really, then?”

She just looked at her, blinking for a long time and Pansy had never felt so thoroughly studied.

“Maybe I’ll tell you one day, if we’re going to be friends, that is?” she challenged.

Pansy smirked.  _ Touche. _

* * *

Hermione sat alone in a compartment on the ride back to London for the Christmas holidays. Harry and Ron had stayed at Hogwarts and she was grateful for the solitude. It was nice to have found friends, but those boys could be a bit much after a while. She greatly prefered Pansy’s company but they had to be discreet about their friendship or risk being shunned by their own housemates. She sighed. The Gryffindor-Slytherin rivalry was a challenge she hadn’t anticipated. The Sorting Hat had certainly been correct, being a Gryffindor was making her project much more difficult.

She thought about what she’d accomplished so far and she had to reluctantly admit that it wasn’t much. She’d certainly gotten Malfoy’s attention. A muggleborn Gryffindor was first in their class, and she could tell it was driving him crazy. But it had little to do with her personally, she could tell he was simply unused to the idea that a Malfoy might not always be the best.

Their first flying lesson had been very enlightening. If any doubts had remained about him being the target of her project they were erased that day. He was rich, and clever, and so  _ pretty _ that it almost hurt, but that day he proved how easily he could be manipulated, and that just made him absolutely perfect. He also inadvertently revealed to her a means by which she could go about doing that manipulating. Harry Potter. Despite the terrible first impression he’d made it looked like he might be very useful in accomplishing her goals.

The moment Harry had challenged him, tried to force him to give Neville’s remembrall back, Malfoy had been unable to resist and had gone flying off with the stupid toy. He had been so impulsive, so un-Slytherin, acting as if there weren’t at least a thousand other ways to get to the Gryffindors without such enormous risk. No, he was particularly susceptible to Potter. The days and weeks following that rather disastrous lesson confirmed her suspicions. Malfoy watched Harry; she noticed how he couldn’t seem to resist confronting him, the pathetic way that he taunted him, and how he was so obviously jealous of the other boy’s fame that Hermione was almost embarrassed for him. And Hermione realized that if she befriended this- frankly, rather sad- boy she was certain to be all over Malfoy’s radar. A muggleborn Gryffindor who was also best friends with the boy who lived. It would be impossible for him to ignore that.

Unfortunately, befriending Harry Potter was harder work than she had thought it would be. Mostly due to his self-appointed best friend Ron Weasley who had no good qualities to speak of, but he’d attached himself to Harry and jealously guarded his attention. For some reason the boy had accepted that. But then that mountain troll had come along and proven an unexpected boon. 

Earlier that day she’d brushed off Weasley’s harsh words as soon as he’d spoken them; he had such poor tastes that she almost would have been insulted if he  _ had _ liked her. But she saw a way to gain Harry’s sympathies. She made sure to hide away in the bathroom and be overheard ‘crying’ by her roommates but she- obviously- never could have anticipated an adventure that would bond them (and unfortunately Weasley, as well) instantly. And ever since then- several weeks now- they’d been something of an inseparable trio. So there was certainly progress, but not as much as she would have liked.  

Just then she spotted Malfoy and his gang- including Pansy- walking by her compartment. Pansy was one mark in her favour, a resource who would be helpful in the future. Hermione knew that she had grown up with Malfoy and considered him to be one of her best friends, but she thankfully detected no interest beyond that. She actually got the impression that Pansy looked at him as a member of her family. 

A few minutes passed, Hermione continued to stare out the window until she heard the compartment door slide open. It was Pansy, she had apparently doubled back.

“Those boys can’t settle down for one minute,” she said by way of greeting, “they’re rigging the door in the next car so that a dung bomb goes off on whoever walks through there next so we should stay put for awhile.” She sighed dramatically, “they’re Slytherins though so hopefully they can at least manage not to get caught. Anyway, I came in here to give you this. Happy Christmas.” She handed her a cheerily wrapped package. 

Hermione dug through her bag to find the gift she had for Pansy. She pulled it out and handed it to the other girl who sat down beside her.

“At the same time?” Pansy asked.

Hermione nodded and they both tore into their packages. When she had the wrapping off Hermione almost gasped out loud. It was a book. An old, out of print book, on traditional wizarding customs that they’d talked about and that she’d been itching to get her hands on. She was a little frightened to look up and see her friend’s reaction to a gift that now felt rather paltry in comparison. 

“Well, now mine just seems boring,” Pansy said, interrupting her thoughts.

Her head snapped up and she saw the other girl carefully removing the barrettes from the box, happy to see a smile on her face. She’d trusted her mum to pick them out, she’d requested something to hold her chin length hair back- having noticed how it fell in her face during potions- she’d also asked for something girly, but not overly so, in a shade of green that would be complementary to the emerald of Slytherin House. Her mum had been extremely enthusiastic to hear that she’d made a girl friend, and within a week had owled her a very pretty set of dragonfly shaped jade barrettes.

Hermione giggled. “I was thinking that mine seemed silly.” 

“No, these are so pretty. These came from a muggle shop?” Pansy practically cooed with an expression of wonder.

Hermione fought not to cringe at her casual prejudice; she had learned that most magical people really didn’t know any better. Despite her House’s dark reputation she knew that Pansy didn’t actually have anything against muggles, she was just wary of them because she’d never really come into contact with them.

“They did,” she nodded, “I described to my mum something like what I wanted, and that’s what she sent back, they’re to keep your hair out of your face in class. But I don’t think they compare to this book. I’m so excited to read it.”

Pansy shrugged. “It wasn’t a big deal to ask my father to find it, I knew you wanted to read it.” 

Casual prejudice, now casual privilege. Pansy lived in an oddly small world- it was something Hermione would have to guard herself from becoming too immersed in, she couldn’t afford to lose perspective. But she still liked her, and was still very grateful for her. 

“It’s great. Seriously, thank you,” she said quietly, rubbing her hand reverently across the cover of the book. 

Pansy laughed. “You’re so weird, Granger, but I still like you,” she said, echoing Hermione’s thoughts. 

And then they spent the rest of the journey playing with Pansy’s new barrettes like the pre-teens they still were, despite the big responsibilities they’d both taken on.    


* * *

When they returned from the Christmas holidays Hermione became almost impossible to track down, at least by herself. Potter and Weasley stuck to her like glue. She was often in the library, but unlike first term they were almost always with her as well.

They clearly had a secret. They couldn’t have been more obvious about it. They tried to conceal the titles of the books they were reading and whispered to each other so loudly that they actually hid very little of what they were saying. But what she heard made little sense. She was sure that whatever it all added up to was trouble though. Those boys practically radiated that they were up to no good.  

Everytime she did see Hermione alone she would try to subtly ask her about it, and she would be swiftly shut down. After awhile she was certain that the princess was avoiding her. She couldn’t have that, so she simply stopped asking and just continued to observe. 

One day she found her in the library, as usual, but visibly upset, muttering as she paged through a book. She looked up when Pansy approached but didn’t greet her, just continued to talk to herself. Pansy sat down and opened her own book but she barely pretended to read it and just continued to listen to Hermione, trying to make sense of her ranting. When she said something about a cerberus on the third floor Pansy gasped out loud. Hermione’s head shot up, her eyes boring into Pansy’s.

“Hermione, tell me what’s going on,” she pled, injecting every bit of sincerity she could into her voice and expression. 

Hermione huffed out a breath and closed her eyes for a moment. She then raised her chin, a look of determination on her face. “You know what, okay.”

And thus she began a story that left Pansy feeling utterly helpless and gave her nightmares for weeks. And then, because those boys absolutely  _ were _ trouble magnets, things managed to get even worse.

Yet another deadly magical creature on the grounds. This time it was a dragon. 

Pansy stabbed her quill viciously against her parchment as she contemplated the latest bombshell Hermione had dropped on her. She was angry and confused and genuinely terrified for Hermione's safety. What on earth was she thinking, helping their gormless groundskeeper keep a dragon? A dragon for Merlin’s sake. Didn’t Hagrid know he lived in a  _ wooden _ hut?

“Bloody stupid Gryffindors,” she mumbled, focusing on her potions essay.

“A dragon,” she muttered, pulling her Transfiguration textbook from her bag in an attempt to get ahead for their next class and wondering if she should mention the development to her parents in her monthly letter.

“A wooden hut,” she groused to herself as she packed away her things.

“Alright there Pansy?”

Pansy’s head shot up from watching the ground to see Draco standing a few feet in front of her, one ridiculously blond eyebrow raised. Pansy swallowed nervously- she could not afford to betray Hermione’s trust- but covered it up with a smirk.

“I’m fine. You know you look like your mother when you do that?”

Draco narrowed his eyes at her and Pansy forgot all about what he could have possibly overheard. “I do not.”

* * *

 

Detention was not a part of her plan in any shape or form, even if the object of her little project had detention too. She’d assumed she’d make it through school without getting herself a reputation but, well, being Harry Potter’s best friend wasn’t exactly a walk in the park. At least she didn’t have to put up with Ron and his relentless moaning, though he was no doubt still doing so, but he was firmly ensconced in the hospital wing and so they were all - her, Harry, Neville and Draco- without the pleasure of his company for their evening jaunt into the forbidden forest. 

“I’m not going in that forest,” Malfoy said quickly and Hermione couldn’t help but quietly agree. What on earth sort of detention was this? And how in Merlin’s name could Hagrid think that it was ok? Even if Malfoy had been out of bed after hours, he was only out of bed in the first place because of what Hermione and Harry were doing  _ for Hagrid.  _ Had he forgotten that they had been doing him a favor? She flicked her eyes in Harry’s direction and rolled them when she caught sight of his smirk. God. Were all boys this petty? Was it something they learned at school when all the girls were having the health talks about what to expect upon entering ‘womanhood’?

“Yeh are if yeh want to stay at Hogwarts,” Hagrid said fiercely and Hermione pointedly glared at the ground beneath her feet. The unfairness of the situation was almost too much and she was about to tell Hagrid just what she thought of it when he spoke again.

“Harry and Neville, you go that path. I’ll take Fang and go along here. Malfoy and young Hermione will go that way,” he said, nodding his head in agreement. Hermione clenched her jaw and tried not to let her utter glee at having been partnered with Malfoy show in any way.

“What?” Neville asked, turning to look at Hagrid in shock.

“NO!” Harry exclaimed.

Hermione sighed quietly, and not for the first time, regretted not listening to the sorting hat. She glanced at Malfoy to see an amused smirk on his face. Well, at least she knew  _ he  _ wasn’t going to protest Hagrid’s decision. She cleared her throat.

“It’s fine Harry,” she said quietly, stepping forward to reassure her friend, “It’s only Malfoy,” she smirked.

They split up then - Harry and Neville along one path, Hagrid and Fang another, until it was just the two of them.

Hermione watched Draco’s determination set in as the others left. He sighed and waved his hand in front of him, “Granger.” She simply nodded and moved ahead. She could hear him following behind her, the lantern Hagrid had given them creaking with the light breeze that was drifting through the trees. They walked in silence- there wasn’t exactly anything Hermione could say to him, after all- following the path deeper into the Forbidden Forest until the only light was the one shining from the lantern and the only noises they heard were those made by the forest. 

One shrill hoot though startled Hermione, which caused her to trip over an upturned root in the process. She didn’t see Draco move, but he was obviously quick, something she already knew from watching him in flying lessons, because he grabbed her by the elbow and stopped her from falling face first into the dirt. 

It was the first time they’d ever touched, even if his gloves and her cloak prevented them from having any actual contact. Draco Malfoy, the boy she’d decided over a year ago to make her own, was helping her.

“Thanks,” she murmured.

“Are you ok?” He asked.

Hermione’s head snapped up to find him watching her, his eyebrows furrowed as his eyes followed her hands that were sweeping down the length of her cloak. “I’m fine. Just clumsy,” she shrugged. He nodded and let his hand drop away from her now that she was standing again.

“Think we should keep going?”

“Yeah,” she decided, stepping up beside him, “we haven’t heard anything from Hagrid to let us know we should head back so…” she trailed off and glanced at him. “Are you looking forward to going home?” She asked tentatively, watching him shrug and then lift his arm to move a low hanging branch out of their way. 

“I suppose. Just more of the same really,” he replied.

“What do you mean?”

“Well,” he said, moving to sit on a nearby tree stump, “I’ll spend an inordinate amount of time with Crabbe and Goyle. Pansy too, I guess. My mother will have me stuck to a desk most of the day practising my cursive before she lets me outside to ride my broom and my evenings will be spent sitting quietly in the corner listening to my father explain the machinations of the ministry, much like how the seventh yea-”

He broke off, suddenly aware of just  _ who  _ he was spilling Slytherin secrets to, “What about you Granger? Are you looking forward to going home?”

Hermione settled down beside him on the stump and shrugged. “I suppose.”

Draco stopped pulling at the leaves beside him and levelled her with a glare. “You suppose?” He drawled.

“I love my parents dearly Malfoy, but they’re not exactly into the same things I am.” Malfoy continued to look dumbfounded and Hermione sighed. “They’re dentists. They look after people's teeth,” she explained and he nodded. “Anyway, it’s not like I have any interest in doing that so…” she trailed off. She didn’t know why she was telling him any of this and stood suddenly from their perch. “We should keep going.” Draco sighed and joined her on his feet.

“Lead on Granger.”

“How come you followed us down to Hagrid’s that day?” Hermione eventually asked. It had been on her mind for weeks. Why he had followed them instead of telling his head of house his suspicions. Snape, who seemed to have nothing but criticism for both Harry  _ and her, _ would surely have jumped at the chance to punish them. “Actually,” she continued, stopping to look at him, “how did you even know about it?” Draco shrugged but Hermione was determined. “Malfoy,” she repeated slowly, “how did you know about it?” He mumbled something unintelligible. “What?” She asked, leaning forward to hear him better. Draco came to a stop and sighed.

“I said,” he mumbled, “that it doesn’t matter.”

“Malfoy.” She insisted, “tell me.”

“I overheard it ok? And I….” he trailed off and continued walking.

“What?”

“I wanted to see the dragon ok? My namesake. One of the rarest magical creatures to ever exist. There’s not exactly somewhere you can go to see them whenever you want yo-”

“You mean a zoo,” Hermione interrupted.

Draco’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “I don’t know what that is Grang-”

They both stopped dead at the sound of a piercing scream that reverberated through the trees around them. Hermione turned her head and swallowed harshly. “Harry,” she managed to rasp out before turning swiftly on her heel. She was vaguely aware of Draco following quickly behind her, the lantern swinging in his hands and casting long shadows in front of her, all the while mumbling “bloody Potter.”


End file.
